Not as planned
by just a little rain
Summary: Marissa Holmes, daughter of Mycroft Holmes and the niece of Sherlock, was kidnapped from her American boarding school. Despite the BAU's top profilers handling the investigation nothing goes as expected when dealing with an ex-junkie, a genius teenager, and the British Government.
1. Chapter 1

Marissa sat in her history class ignoring everything her teacher was saying, it was all pointless, she had no interest in remembering events and dates that were in the past. A few months ago she would have bluntly told her idiot of a teacher how pointless his career was, but as her father had insisted many times, it was better to hold her tongue and not ostracized herself. Because, according to him, until she developed away to clone herself she would need to rely on other people, so it was best not to make enemies where she could.

Despite her spotless attendance record, her lack of interest or sense of value in the course meant her marks in history were substandard, while her science and math courses were at the top of her class.

Marissa Holmes was a genius, but a lazy genius.

While Mr. Whelan continued to lecture Marissa noticed the movement in the hallway, a man dressed in the schools staff uniform, briefly she recalled the janitorial staffs schedule but saw no reason for them to be in the hall. She hadn't even had the time to give his appearance enough thought when the room door burst open, and three men posing as janitors barged in guns in hand.

Mr. Whelan screamed the loudest as he fell back towards his desk, just before one of the man beat him violently with the back of his gun knocking him to the floor. The rest of the class dove under their desk whimpering desperately.

Marissa on the other hand hadn't so much as flinched, the pen in her hand continued to draw a mindless pattern on the corner of her notebook, while she rested her head lazy in her other hand. It wasn't until a shadow fell on her desk that she slowly raised her steel blue eyes to the unknown man in front of her.

"Marissa Holmes." He stated seriously, his voice trying to sound intimidating but it fell short of causing her any concern.

"Can I help you?" She asked still sitting comfortably in her desk, well aware of her classmates watching her in confused terror.

"You're coming with us." The man ordered.

"Am I?" Marissa said with a mocking grin before sitting up straight in her desk and folded her hands in front of her. "And why pray tell would I do that?"

The man's response was to hold the small handgun to her forehead, the cold steel only inches from her.

"How boringly predictable." She sighed before standing from her seat, casually picking up her sweater from the back of her chair and followed the men out of the room.

"I hope you boy's know what you're getting yourselves into." Marissa added as they lead her to a car parked not far from the school.

"Shut up." The tallest of the group ordered. Marissa only laughed; they had been the ones foolish enough to kidnap the daughter of Mycroft Holmes, the niece of Sherlock Holmes. Did they really think this was going to go smoothly?

* * *

"What's happened?" Emily asked as Hotch hurried down the stairs to the bullpen.

"School kidnapping, three armed men walked into a boarding school, held a classroom at gun point, and abducted a student." Hotch explained to the team as they crowed around the area. "Student was seventeen year old Marissa Holmes, she's been gone for thirty minutes."

"Thirty minutes, locals are getting good at calling us in early." Rossi said.

"She's the daughter of an important government figure, possibly a diplomat, certainty channels were skipped and a call was made directly to the director to have our team put on the case." Hotch stated quickly. "We don't have a lot of information at the moment but we have to move fast, we'll be briefed on the plane."

"Has there been any ransom demands?" JJ asked quickly following behind the team leader.

"Not yet." Hotch answered, it wasn't surprising seeing how quickly everything had happened. "Wheels up now."


	2. Chapter 2

The police office was in organized chaos. Everyone was busy, hurrying around the room with documents or issuing orders. The team had driven past three cop cars on patrols, there were roadblocks stationed at every exit into the city, check points set up throughout the city, and a group of officers were sent out to canvass the neighborhood going door to door. People were acting as if martial law was in effect, and no one could rest until this girl was found.

"This girl is high priority." Emily stated as they made the way into the room.

"All missing children are." Hotch responded, but he knew what Prentiss was referring to. They had been briefed on the plane Marissa Elizabeth Holmes was the only child of a London government official, Mycroft Holmes, they had little information concerning him or his job, but it was made clear that Marissa's safe return was of the utmost importance. _World war three could start and it would be a secondary concern to locating this single child._

"Agents." The police chief, a well built man with a thick red beard, greeted them. He was dressed in the standard beige uniform, though the uniform was pressed and clean he looked tired and worn. "I'm glad you made it here as quickly as you did. We've got an amber alert in effect, tripled the number of officers on the street, set up a tip line, school phone lines and home phone lines are set for the ransom. I also got the mayor and five officials breathing down my neck."

"You're under a lot of pressure then." Rossi stated impressed by how quickly the local officers had reacted to the situation.

"I could ask for an armored tank right now and have it within an hour." The chief answer flatly, his voice lacking any humor or exaggeration.

"Reassure the mayor that we are doing everything possible to get Marissa back, but right now we need to talk to her friends and family." Hotch instructed as he took charge of the situation.

"Her family is flying in from London now, we got her teachers and classmates giving their statement but she doesn't seem to have any friends." The man replied pointing towards the interview rooms, more than willing to deviate the responsibilities of the case to Hotch and the rest of his team.

...

"What did you get out of the classmates." Hotch asked as the joined him in the makeshift office, which consisted of three case boards in a small conference room.

"Not much," Morgan stated. "She's a loner, kind of weird, got into trouble for mouthing off, but no one knew of anyone that would want to hurt her." He listed what her classmates had told him.

"There's no record of her being in any trouble." Hotch said as he looked over her file, in fact there was no disciplinary actions of any kind in her record.

"Apparently whenever she got into trouble she would send a text and the problem would just go away." Morgan explained further. There was a slight edge to his voice not liking the way these private school types could get around the rules, but he in no way wished any harm to come to her.

"Have Garcia look into her phone records, see who she was speaking with." Hotch directed as he turned to the others. "Did they have anything else to say about her?"

"Just this." Prentiss said as she opened her note book, wanting to get what one student had told her word for word. "God help whoever has her, the girl is a complete psychopath and if you don't find her you'll be finding her kidnappers dead in a ditch somewhere."

"Her class mates have a positive view of her." Rossi stated humorlessly.

"It's strange." Reid added.

"What's strange?" Morgan asked, turning to the boy genius who was staring at the girl's picture on the board.

"That she doesn't have any friends. Physically she he very attractive: symmetrical face, dark hair, and bright eyes. Also, her extracurricular activities are extensive: she's on the archery team, science club, debate team, top of her class in math and science. She should have some friends." Reid explained further.

"Maybe she's shy." JJ suggested.

"Or maybe the other kids are jealous, I've see her IQ scores." Emily theorised, obviously impressed, it wasn't a big leap for jealously to arise when the schools expectations on education creating a competitive atmosphere. If the school hierarchy was a pyramid, based on grade point average alone then Marissa Holmes would no doubt be at the very top. And that would likely cause problems for those below her.

"Maybe the dean can tell us more." Hotch suggested as he went to interview the head of the school himself.

...

"Miss Monette, thank you for coming in." Hotch greeted the women as he stepped into the small office. The women was well put together, dressed in a tailored pencil skirt and blazer, with a stern face that no doubt was used to keep the teenagers in her school in line.

"It's not a problem anything I can do to help, Marissa is one of the schools brightest students." She replied politely.

"What can you tell me about Miss Holmes?" Hotch asked wanting to get a better idea of victimology other then what was described by the other students.

"She is a bright young girl, brilliant in math and science, but she keeps to herself most of the time. I honestly don't know how much help I can be." Miss Monette explained.

"The other students say that she often got in trouble for talking back at teachers, yet no disciplinary actions were ever filed, why is that?" Hotch asked, pursuing the usual line to questioning.

For a moment Miss Monette was silent, contemplating what to say, her jaw locked as the muscles in her body went rigid. "Miss Holmes is a genius, unfortunately she thought so as well." Miss Monette explained, her tone indicating slight resentment towards the girl. "She often spoke as if other opinions were too far below her to even take seriously, she would correct teachers on trivial matters, and the only time she ever showed courtesy to others feelings were when she was manipulating them to do something for her."

"Why was none of this in her file?" Hotch pressed on.

"Her father is a prominent figure in our school. Mr Holmes wanted to deal with any behavioural problems himself." The women explained. "I think he had begun to get through to her, she was becoming more considerate to the teachers at least."

"Is there anything else, I should know?" Hotch asked.

"No, nothing I can think of."

"Thank you Miss Monette." Hotch said as he went to show her out. The profile was quickly coming together, the daughter of an important diplomatic figure was often a target for kidnapping, add that to her personality she was most likely a risk taker who believed she could handle everything herself.

The two had only steeped out of the small office when the atmosphere of the room change, the steady noise of the officers working stopped as all eyes fell forward.

Three men walked into the room, a short blond haired man with an uneasy expression, his gaze shifting back and forth to the two men in front of him.

A taller man with a head full of curly black hair, cloaked in a heavy black coat with a deep blue scarf, and his hands folded behind his back.

The third man was several years older than the first two, but when he entered his presence commanded the room. Dressed in a professional suite and held an umbrella as a walking stick the man lead the group, his expression calm but his eyes were hard and sinister.

The other police officers moved out of the way as they passed, instinctively sensing that they were not here to play games.

"Who are they?" Hotch asked.

"Marissa's father, her uncle, and a family friend." Miss Monette whimpered her gaze had fallen to the floor as soon as the group had walked into the room, her once confident voice faded to a mousy whisper.

"Ms Monette." The elder of the group greeted as walked up to the headmistress, completely ignoring Hotch.

"Mr Holms." She answered robotically, using all her will power to look the man in the eye.

"Would you care to explain to me exactly what happened this evening?" He asked, tapping his umbrella on the police station's tiled floor. The quite tap that the steel tip made somehow seamed threatening when combined with his intense gaze.

Hotch looked at the man, his dark eyes glared at her with such force that they could cut through steel.

"Mr Holmes, my name is agent Hotchner." Hotch introduced himself, saving the women from answering the question. "We are doing everything we can to find your daughter, but time is of the essence and it would help if you could answer a few questions."

"Of course agent." Mycroft answered smoothly, a politician's polite mask firmly in place. "But once I answer your question, I wish to be fully informed to what is being done to locate my daughter." That was not a question but an order.

"Right this way." Hotch nodded, unsure what he was in for.


	3. Chapter 3

"Don't they seem a little too calm?" Priestess asked as Morgan, Reid, and herself watched through the small window looking into the office. Mycroft had remained standing, his posture composed and collective despite being the parents of a missing child; Sherlock had taken to sitting on the corner of the desk unphased and seemingly uncaring to the situation; John, the only non-family member, was the one that appeared the most anxious as he sat off to the side.

"Could just be the shock." Reid suggested.

"Maybe." Emily nodded, wishing she knew what they were saying.

* * *

"Do either of you have any enemies? Or know anyone who would want to harm Marissa" Hotch asked looking between the two brother's only to hear the third man, John, snort at the apparent redundancy of the question.

"That's going to be a long list." John muttered noticing Hotch's stare.

"Two-hundred and seventy-four people would be willing to go to these extremes to harm me." Mycroft explained briefly. "Only eighty-four of which would have been able to mobilize a unite within the United States without being noticed"

Hotch did his best to hide any signs of shock or worry from appearing on his face. It was no wonder John had stated what he did. There was no way they could investigate that many people in the allotted time frame, there was often only a twenty-four hour window to find a missing child.

"Of the people in the United States that would wish to harm me, none would use my niece as leverage." Sherlock added casually. His brother and him did not have a close relationship, nor did him and his niece, and that was the way they liked it. So no one used them against one and other.

"We'll need a list of those names." Hotch requested hoping the preliminary profile would be able to narrow it down.

"How about we narrow it down first, have your people found anything yet?" Mycroft asked. For a moment Hotch wasn't sure what to tell the man. The only the physical evidence that they had so far was an image from the security tapes depicting the back of the kidnapper's heads.

"It would seem you do." Mycroft continued, not waiting for Hotch to respond, as he pulled out his cell phone. The image on the screen was the exact image that had been recovered from the security camera.

"Where did you get that photo?" Hotch asked bemused at how he had obtained it.

"Best not to worry about that agent." Mycroft dismissed before angling the screen so both him and his brother could view it.

"White males, mid thirties, not married, no significant partner, obviously tired one of which hasn't slept in nine to ten hours." Sherlock observed.

"Thirteen." Mycroft corrected monotony.

"Agreed." The younger brother nodded after a half second of thought. "So he was likely working surveillance the night before. Why would he be involved in the kidnapping? His status puts their operation in jeopardy." Sherlock asked, though his tone suggested it was a rhetorical statement.

"The only logical conclusion is that they were working alone, a small team without the resources to have extra men on surveillance as well as the abduction." Mycroft concluded.

"A small team, not military how many names does that put it down to?" Sherlock surmised.

"Thirty three names." Mycroft answered before turning back to Hotch, who'd been watching with silent bewilderment, while John just shrugged as if to say they-do-this-a-lot-just-go-with-it.

"Anthea will get you a list of the names, Sherlock and I will go to the abduction site, and Marissa's home." Mycroft stated already turning to leave.

"Sir, I know you want to help but you have to let us handle this. We will do everything to get your daughter back but you have to trust us." Hotch insisted blocking Mycroft's path as he went to leave.

"Agent Aaron Hotchiner," Mycroft addressed him by his full name, catching him by surprise as he had never introduced himself as such. With his polite tone still in place, Mycrofts manner changed and Hotch found himself struck by the level of carefully controlled rage in his voice.

Mycroft took a threatening steep into the agents space before continuing. "You and your team are the best at what you do, but I assure you I am the best at what I do. I will get my daughter back and I will tear through anything and anyone who stands in my way." He stated eyes burrowing menacingly into Hotch's "Allow me to remind you, that whatever crimes I may commit on your soil, I have diplomatic immunity in forty-seven countries, and all fifty states. So I ask you to think about yourself, your team, and your loved ones, because their current lifestyle depends on your next move." Mycroft continued before Hotch could reply.

"Don't respond; don't say a word just steep aside and stay out of my way." Mycroft ordered darkly, and without seeing another option Hotch stepped aside.

* * *

"I tried pulling their records like you said." Garcia explained over the phone once the three men had left.

"Tried?" Morgan questioned, not used to the tech goddess to _try_ at anything. She _succeeds_.

"Other than a blog, and news articles about Sherlock I can't find anything. To the untrained eye you would think it ends there, but I found several sealed files." Garcia continued.

"Unseal them Garcia." Hotch ordered simply from his spot in front of the room, still angered by the Holm's brothers' interference in their investigation.

"I tried, believe me sir I tried. I've gone so far to take a virtual crowbar to them, and I got nowhere, zip, nada, whoever was responsible for keeping Sherlock's life off the grid knew what they were doing." Garcia said simultaneously sad and impressed.

"What about Mycroft?" Hotch asked already knowing the answer. If someone went this far to keep Sherlock's life hidden, then they would have done twice as much to ensure Mycroft was as well.

"Officially, he occupies a minor role in the British government but his signature is on some prestigious documents. Unfortunately, mostly everything's classified. Lots of black marker scribbling out what would no doubt be some very juicy reading." Garcia sighed.

"I was able to get Doctor Watsons old army file, but that was all before he met the Holmes brothers." She concludes.

"Thank you baby girl." Morgan said before hanging up.

"JJ I need you working the press, Rossi see if we have a good enough description of the kidnappers to get a sketch of them. Morgan you and Reid go to Marissa's apartment, see what you can learn about her. And keep an eye on her relatives." Hotch ordered sternly.

* * *

Marissa lived in a quaint upper-class apartment complex close to the school. It was a two story, semi-detached home, classic white siding and black tiled roof with a large iron gate, and large flowered hedge. While the gate gave some security, the hedges provided many areas for someone to lie in wait and observe the residences of the home without being seen themselves. _Mycroft made a mental note to have the hedge removed once this was over. _

"It seems the FBI are looking into us." Mycroft stated as he tucked his phone back into his pocket and approached the house, he had given Anthea instructions to keep tabs on the BAU's progress throughout the investigation.

"There're wasting their time looking into us, when they should be searching for Marissa. Idiots." Sherlock huffed as both he and John followed behind Mycroft.

"It's standard protocol Sherlock." Mycroft stated as he looked around his daughters home. Text books were placed neatly on the corner of the coffee table near the couch. Judging by the obvious dip in the cushion and the access to natural sunlight from the adjacent window, she favored to sit there to study.

"But they are digging where they shouldn't, should our new aquatics be expecting a ride in one of your cars to an undisclosed warehouse?" Sherlock continued to rant as he circled the kitchen and dining space.

"Unlikely, unless they prove to be a problem." Mycroft answered as he glanced over at several photos on the wall. One photo was taken during a trip to the museum when she was small, another with Sherlock helping her with a middle school science project, and a third picture of Mycroft holding her as a baby. There were no recent pictures of them, as time went on Mycroft thought it was less important to document trivial moments, and instead focused on her education and honing her mind.

Now he wished he had documented those trivial moments more vigorously.

"Are you okay?" John asked, far more sympathetic to the issue at hand than Sherlock was.

"Fine." Mycroft stated as he pushed the bothersome feelings away. _Mycroft Holmes did not get worried_.

"Good, you're going to be no use to us staring at old photos on the wall. Why are you even here, you hate leg work?" Sherlock snapped, not liking his brother honing in on what was normally his work.

"My daughter has been kidnapped do you honestly think I'd trust you to handle this alone." Mycroft glared instantly shutting him up though, it was probably to avoid the hassle of a fight rather than intimidation.

"We don't exactly work well together." Sherlock stated, hoping to convince him to wait back at the police station.

"Then stay out of the way." Mycroft rebutted while John just scoffed at their childish bickering.

...

The trio had only started to carefully observe the apartment when the front door opened and Agents Morgan and Reid walked in.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked rudely.

"We're here to profile Marissa's home." Morgan said casually. It was a partial truth, they needed information for victomology, but mostly they needed to keep an eye on her father and uncle.

"Please, you're here to watch us." Sherlock mocked opening his mouth to say something else, but was stopped by John.

"Sherlock!" The former army doctor barked. "Can you try not to get arrested for obstruction of justice?"

"Fine." Sherlock shouted as if it was an impossible decision, before he marched up the stairs.

Morgan and Reid followed close behind until they reached Marissa's bedroom. The walls were painted a light grey with a single wall coloured a deep purple. Everything was elegant in its simplicity; there was no big flat screen or dramatic roaring fireplace. Just a new oak desk, papers neatly organized on top of it, with matching side table. Along with a classic area rug, and golden framed mirror there was a tall book case which stretched from floor to ceiling.

It was also far to clean, and organized, to be the room of a busy high school student who lived on her own.

"This room could pass a military inspection." Reid stated as he looked through the papers on the desk.

"I don't remember Marissa being such a neat freak when she wasn't under your watch." Sherlock stated looking over to his brother.

"She wasn't." Mycroft replied as his eyes examined every aspect of the room, looking for what did or didn't belong.

"She knew someone was watching her, probably thought it was one of your men." Sherlock theorized causing Mycroft's heart to drop, even if he didn't show it. _His security detail was meant to protect her, not make her more venerable. _

"Have you technical analysis bring up parking permits, traffic tickets, or sightings of any black SUVs' outside or near this location." Sherlock instructed the two agents.

"Why?" Morgan asked turning towards the younger brother, holding back the urge to tell him that they didn't work for him.

"It's what his men use when they're tailing her." Sherlock stated, nudging his head to his brother.

Morgan wasn't surprised by that statement. A man like Mycroft needed control, so it wasn't unexpected that he was having his daughter watched even while he was in London.

"She's been writing stories." Reid said as he started looking through the journals in Marissa's desk. "Crime stories mostly, some romance." Reid summarised as he opened several of the journals and began reading them all at once, running his finger down the center of one page before repeating the process on another journal. "There are some detailed passages of drug use and effects."

"You think she was using?" Morgan asked.

"They are very descriptive, suggest first hand-"

"Marissa does not do drugs." Sherlock cut in, obviously angered by the conversation.

"We're not here to judge your niece." Morgan said sympathetically, "But-"

"Then stop looking for things that you will not find." Sherlock cut him off again. "She was taken from her school not from a back street ally; none of her personal matters could have prevented that."

"I know, but to know what type of person she is will help us know if there was another reason she was targeted or if she made herself vulnerable. We are not judging her or saying any of this is her fault, but we need to know everything." Morgan tried to reason.

"Marissa did not do drugs." Sherlock stated firmly again. She had seen what drugs had done to him, and swore to both her father and her uncle that she would never so much as touch any drug.

"Agent Morgan, please inspect the closet there." Mycroft interjected as he disrupted their conversation.

"Why?" Morgan asked but moved to the door anyway.

"There is a scuff mark on the floor where the rest of the floor is pristine; something had been dragged in there recently." Mycroft explained.

Morgan looked down at the floor, surprised to see the smallest scuff marks heading towards the closet. How he noticed that from across the room Morgan did not know. Opening the closet quickly, he was not expecting what fell out.

A woman's body.

"That would be Mrs. Woods, Marissa's housekeeper." Mycroft said emotionlessly.


	4. Chapter 4

"They killed the house keeper." Morgan relayed into the phone. "They probably came here looking for something, before or after the kidnapping, Mrs Woods was collateral damage.

"Wrong place, wrong time." Hotch stated humorously.

Rubbing his temples Hotch contemplated how this changed the profile. _Before they were dealing with kidnappers, now they were dealing with killers. _

"This looks more personal to me, not just collateral damage." Morgan said as he walked back into the bedroom. The police had yet to arrive on the scene leaving Mrs. Woods body to remain on the floor of the closet. There was obvious discoloration on her neck and face suggesting she was beaten pre-mortem.

"Do you know if anything was taken?" Hotch asked.

"Mycroft and Sherlock looked through the house, only her laptop is missing." Morgan explained.

"Is there anything on her laptop that's of any value?" Reid asked the two.

Mycroft hesitated briefly, but ultimately told the two agents what he was thinking. "There is a security program that can only be accessed from one of three computers, one back in London, another by me, and the third-"

"Marissa's." Reid finished.

"Why the hell would you give your daughter access to something like that?" Sherlock shouted at his brother. The notion of giving a teenage girl access to not only something so valuable, but dangerous enough to put her life in jeopardy...he didn't think Mycroft was capable of that.

"She wished to learn more about my work. It's hardly a program of national security; it's merely the prototype of what could one day be useful." Mycroft said defensively. "But the software itself is incredibly valuable."

"How valuable?" Morgan asked with his ear still pressed to the phone.

"Valuable enough to make someone very rich, very quickly." Mycroft stated.

"You get all that Hotch?" Morgan asked as he walked out of the room.

When he was sure no one could overhear he continued. "I've been thinking, even if this is just about the money, these guys took her knowing who she was. It would have been easier to put up a ransom, if the computer was what they were after the ransom would be a perfect distraction and a second potential profit."

"You're right." The fact that their still hadn't been a ransom implied money wasn't the kidnappers only motivation. "We're past the twelve hour mark, it's likely that they were after the software on her laptop, but it's too soon to rule out a personal attack on Mr Holmes as well." Hotch said seriously.

"They didn't wear mask, she's saw their face which means." Morgan continued.

"That once they get what they want, they will kill her. I know." Hotch said sadly just as JJ came up to him with a file.

"Hold on one second Morgan." Hotch paused as he read the document carefully, it seems Garcia was successful in uncovering a small bit of dirt on Sherlock Holmes.

"It appears Sherlock's been having some financial difficulties. He's been refusing to take job offers that didn't interest him, and has started to fall behind on his rent. As well, he and his brother are not as close as we originally assumed. In fact, they don't like being near each other let alone work together." Hotch relayed into the phone. That alone wasn't enough to warrant abducting his own niece, but it would hopefully get him talking. There was something about his uncaring attitude that irked Hotch

"What do you want to do?" Morgan asked as he glanced up the stairs to make sure they weren't coming down yet.

"Bring them back to the station as soon as you're done." Hotch said. "Sherlock and I need to have a conversation."

* * *

"Who ever took her wasn't looking for ransom or they would have called by now." Hotch said thirty minutes later when Sherlock and John were sitting in the office while Mycroft was briefed elsewhere.

"What does that mean?" John asked worried

"It means they are either idiots, who didn't realised they could double their pay by asking for a ransom and steal the software, or more likely they took her as a way to harm Mycroft. Either way it does not bode well for her once she's outlived her usefulness." Sherlock stated without any emotion in his voice.

Hotch was certainly impressed with both the Holmes brothers, they were sharp, but their personalities were far less outstanding.

"What can you tell me about your living situation?" Hotch changed the line of questioning, all the while watching for Sherlock to respond.

"What about it?" Sherlock asked.

"You've started to fall behind on your rent haven't you." Hotch stated, not phrasing it as a question but as a fact.

"If you're implying that I had Marissa kidnapped to make some extra cash you are sadly mistaken. Besides, Mrs. Hudson hardly cares about a few late payments." Sherlock mocked.

"We also looked into your relationship with your brother; you two had a bit of a falling out." Hotch wouldn't go so far as to say they hated each other, but the two put on an impressive act that they did. Even if it was obvious to the team that they cared a great deal for the others well being.

"Yes." Sherlock stated, that was common knowledge.

"It must be hard having an over bearing brother like him, an important government official who has done so well for himself. He's able to send his daughter to fancy boarding schools, while you are known only as a detective and a recovering addict." Hotch pushed, he need him to react to what he was saying.

"Certainly done your research haven't you?" Sherlock smirked.

"Hold on, what are you getting at? You don't think Sherlock was jealous and decided to kidnap his own niece to spite his brother, he was in London for Christ sake." John glared, quickly becoming hostile.

"It wouldn't be hard for you to have arranged it, would it Mr. Holmes." Hotch continued.

"You're crossing a line agent." John defended.

"Calm down John, it's a logical theory and certainly sounds like something I would do. It's completely wrong, but logical." Sherlock continued to mock without any real concern.

"You didn't have anything to do with this." John stated firmly.

"How do you know that?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"Because you're too big of an ass and a show off not to have bragged about it by now." John answered quickly. It wasn't something a good friend would say about the other in such situation, but the two obviously had a complicated friendship.

"Or you enjoyment comes from thinking you've gotten away with it." Hotch said.

"What exactly are you trying to accomplish Agent Hotchner? You're not a complete imbecile so you're smart enough to realise I didn't do this, so what are you trying to do? Gauge a certain response?" Sherlock asked, already getting to the point of the matter. Hotch had hoped that by getting him to admit how much Marissa meant to him, he could convince him and Mycroft to work with the team. But that wasn't an option until he stopped viewing this as a normal case, he needed to make it personal for him.

"I am trying to find your niece." Hotch said through grit teeth.

"Getting emotion over someone you don't even know, honestly how do you manage to get anything done if you make each case personal?" Sherlock laughed adjusting the scarf around his neck.

"Sherlock." John signed in a tone that had become synonymous with _shut-up_.

"We don't make a habit of getting emotionally involved, but I know one thing." Hotch glared "If it was my child that had been taken, or my niece, I wouldn't be sitting her so calmly."

"If your son had been taken, what good would you be to him running around in a panic?" Sherlock asked.

"How do you know I have a son?" Hotch asked caught off guard by Sherlock's response.

"Please, your tie, the ink marks on your hand, of course you have a son." Sherlock said in his usual condescending voice.

"It was a lucky guess." John piped in.

"Balance of probabilities." Sherlock dismissed. "The point being, you mistake my lack of emotion for not caring, but I assure you agent Hotchner that is not the case at all. We all want to keep those we care about protected, but in this situation what good will panicking do? There is no need to get emotional, worry will only be a distraction, we deal with situations with logical increments to retrieve Marissa. To do that we must be focused."

Hotch was slightly shocked, he had all but admitted to caring about his nice, now was the time to get to the point of the matter. "If you care about her, if you want to get her home safe then you need to start working with us Sherlock. For Marissa's sake, can you do that?"

There was a long pause. Hotch could practically see the wheels turning in the young man's mind.

"Yes." Sherlock answered but it sounded like he was admitting defeat by agreeing to work with anyone. But for Marissa's sake he would swallow his pride and accept all the help he could. He only hoped they wouldn't be too late.

* * *

Marissa sat in the middle seat in the back of an old car, her clenched jaw the only sign that she was upset. She remained perfectly composed willing herself not to fidget; she refused to give her kidnappers the satisfaction of seeing her frightened. Even as the car turned sharply she did not sway to either side, not wanting to touch either of the men sitting next to her.

The moment they had left the school a blindfold had been tied tightly over her eyes and she was thrown inside the old model car. The vehicle smelt like her uncle's old apartment, the scent of nicotine and smoke absorbed into the fabric seats.

They had been driving for hours, most likely because the kidnappers were trying to confuse her, in order to make her think they were driving out further then they were. But Marissa had seen through that plan when they made their fourth right turn in a row, effectively turning in a circle. They were either idiots or lost, _perhaps both_.

She tried not to underestimate the men, or dread on the mundane situation she found herself in. It wasn't as if she had anything to worry about, her father was likely on the way here now and these men didn't stand a chance in hiding from him. Marissa was more bothered by the boring car ride and lack of creativity put into her kidnapping. _On the bright side she would likely be excused from the rest of history class and gym class this afternoon,_ she smirked.

Final they reached their destination, and Marissa was forcefully pulled out of the car and dragged in an unknown direction.

Scuffing her feet she noticed the ground was composed of packed dirt, possibly a construction site, likely an abandoned warehouse inside the town limits.

Blindly she allowed herself to be led forward into a cement floor structure and up a rickety staircase. She heard the floor boards squeak in under them and the sound of a large door slamming closed. Two men, judging by the footsteps, had brought her into the room while the third man waited downstairs.

Marissa internally flinched when a large hand brushed agents her cheek as the man removed the blindfold.

It was still light out, Marissa surmised as she noticed the sunlight piercing through the boarded windows, they must have been driving for only a few hours. As she expected the room was that of an old warehouse due for demolition, but the men did not give her time to exploit any usable details of her location.

The two large men circled her; one stopped behind her gripped her by the upper arm while the other marched up to her, cracked his knuckles, and invaded her personal space. He kept his face scrunched up in what was meant to be a frightening scowl, but Marissa did not show any reaction to either of them.

These two had seen too many movies, watched to many scenes directed at intimidating the captive as they circled her like caught were trying to physically intimidate her, Marissa thought bemused by the situation.

Vaguely she heard people talking downstairs, the driver from earlier and a woman. Moments later the driver brought up her home computer and handed to one of the men before leaving again.

The door downstairs closed, and the car engine roared to life signalling that the third man had left, leaving her with the two men here and an unknown woman who may still be waiting downstairs. There may also be others waiting with her, and with too many unknown variables Marissa could not make a move yet.

...

The larger of the men held her laptop in front of her, before shouting orders to her in a thick accent.

The man spoke was not completely fluent, but the language had a Salvic root, and words similar to those in Turkish- _which didn't help her much,_ as well as German- which she was fluent in. Besides the words she recognized, there was only one thing on her computer that would be any interest to them. Altogether she was able to understand what he wanted her to do.

"He says." The man holding her from behind started, but she cut him off vigorously.

"I know what he said." Marissa snapped as she pulled away from him. "одговор је не" She responded bitterly hoping her Serbian was good enough to get across her refusal.

The first man grabbed her by the upper arm, tightly, before shoving her into a chair. Once she was seated a wooden box was slammed down in front of her, her computer placed on top of it.

"I said, the answer is no." Marissa repeated herself in English this time. "идиоти" She muttered, it was the one words she could say in nearly every language. _idiots_.

That remark earned her a hard slap to the face, and if it hadn't been for the larger mans tight grip would have no doubt sent her to the floor.

Marissa turned her face back to him, the taste of blood in her mouth, as she fixed him with a stone cold Holmes gaze.

_The skull, eyes, larynx, jugular, spine, lungs, ribs, liver, kidney, heart,_ _carotid and subclavian artery _she thought clinically. The right attack to any of those regions and she could easily kill or immobilise the men in front of her. She simply had to wait for an opening.

But with the large man continued to tower over here, obviously not about to let a little girl tell them what to do it wouldn't be easy to escape just yet.

_This was going to be a long day. _She thought dryly.

* * *

"The only black SUV belonged to a Richard Mason, done three years for armed robbery." Garcia explained over the phone to the rest of the team.

"What about the rest of the robbers?" Hotch asked.

"From what I can tell they are all in different stats, I'll confirm with their parole officers but from what I can tell Richard is running with a different group this time."

"Thanks Garcia." Morgan said before looking over to Hotch. "Should we tell her family about this?"

"No, until we're sure where we stand with the two Holme's brothers it's best to leave them on their own and continue with our investigation as normal." They may have gotten Sherlock to open up to the possibly of working together, but that did not mean the team had to share details with him. In all honestly he feared what Sherlock or Mycroft would do if they got a hold of the men who may have kidnapped Marissa.

* * *

Elsewhere Mycroft re-read a text that Anthea had sent. "It seems the FBI have gotten a match to a Black SUV." He stated dryly.

"The BAU team will have him brought in, we'll get to question him then. Unless you plan to have a word with him before that." Sherlock added noticing the change in his brothers expression.

"I've already instructed for him to be picked up." Mycroft said as he climbed into his car.


	5. Chapter 5

"Tell me where she is." Sherlock stated dead calm, circling the man currently tied to the chair like a cat circling a mouse.

"I'm not telling you anything." The Richard spat.

The younger Holme's didn't even forge shock or surprise when Mycroft's driver had pulled up to an abandoned warehouse which Mr. Mason was already tided up inside. Instead, he went straight to work trying to get information from him.

Sherlock glared at Richard Mason, the only possible connection to his nieces abduction. He was about to grab him by the collar and demand and answer, but Mycroft beat him to the punch. With one swift movement the elegant umbrella, that he carried so regularly that it had become synonymous with his imposing figure, transformed into a brutal weapon. A loud crack echoed throughout the room as the thick fabric acted like a leather of a whip, the inner metal and wood pounded against the man's jaw.

Sherlock was not sure whether it was the bones in the man's face which had made the noise or the sound of the umbrella breaking. _He_ _did not interfere to find out which_.

Mycroft did not give Richard a chance to answer his question as he continued his assault. Soon the man's face was bloody, the umbrella in his hand destroyed with pieces of small metal supports tearing through the fabric which had caused the shallow cuts all over the man's face.

When Mycroft's arm began to hurt, and he found himself out of breath, he dropped the umbrella. It fell slowly to the floor along with any sense of civil decency, patience, and respect he had towards the law and procedures. Until Marissa was returned to him he had no need to hide behind his mask of icy calmness, nor would he use the subtly means of pushing his power and influence.

"God damn it." The man cursed weakly.

Grabbing the man's hair in his hand Mycroft forcefully pulled up on his head to face him. Mycroft's eyes displayed furry and rage as he lost control of his emotions, _and Mycroft out of control was a scary sight. _He was not a large man, despite Sherlock's constant jokes about his diet, he was not muscular and his body was not imposing, but it was not his body that was to be feared. Above his average frame was a weapon that countries would go to war for if they knew what it was truly capable of. Locked away behind an elegant facade, always playing the part of doting servant to his queen and country, yet it was so alert in his deep-set eyes, so firm in every word he spoke, and so subtly in his manipulation of those around him. With a single glance one forgot everything except his mind. With one look it was clear what he was capable of.

"Tell me where she is, or I swear not even God will be able to save you." Mycroft ordered as he continued to tilt the man's head backwards in a painful angle. Nothing was going to stand between him and his daughter, certainly not the likes of an insignificant pawn.

"I don't know." The man wheezed.

"I hope for your sake that is a lie." Mycroft said in a voice Sherlock had never heard before. Sherlock had heard his elder brother display man things with a simple tone of voice, an order, annoyance, or frustration. He could effectively deliver a threat by just changing his tone while speaking about the weather. It was a talent in linguistics that Mycroft always possessed, but this was something he had never heard before.

"Sherlock, wait outside for a moment." Mycroft stated it was not a question but a demand. Ordinarily Sherlock would not be ordered about so easily, but sensing his hesitation Mycroft fixed him with a hard look. "Now, Sherlock." He repeated himself sternly as if he was speaking to a child. And as Sherlock did so often as a child, he followed his big brothers orders and left him alone.

...

For a time all was quiet. Mycroft spoke to the man attentively, getting inside of his head, but then the man started to scream and Sherlock began wondered what Mycroft could be doing that was so horrible that he didn't want his little brother to see.

Leaning agents the warehouse wall Sherlock got the despite need to have a smoke but soon everything went quiet again and the craving passed. Mycroft came out of the warehouse, a mask of indifferent firmly in place, and when they stepped into the back of the car it was clear he did not want to discuss what had just happened with his brother.

"Caring is not an advantage, Mycroft." Sherlock reminded him no concern about the man still inside the building.

"Now is not the time Sherlock." Mycroft responded sadly as his gaze drifted out the window to the setting sun. It was as if the universe was mocking him, on such a beautiful day his daughter had been taken from him, _it could have at least been raining_.

"We will find her, so long as we focus on the job at hand." Sherlock continued as he sent a silent text to Aaron Hotchner, letting him know where to find their missing getaway driver.

"Perhaps we should return to the team of profilers, they may offer a different perspective." Sherlock suggested, remembering the conversation with Agent Hotchner about working together.

Mycroft mostly ignored him, but signaled to the driver to return to the police station most of his attention focused on the names that Richard had given him. Goran Petrović, Millard Sampson and Charles Trent, the three men who he had been working with.

_His brother was right about one thing. They would find her. _

* * *

"Everything was planned out, Marissa was low risk, the school had some of the most advanced security, and they still managed to take her without a trace. They chose to break into the school instead of grabbing her in her home. It would have made more sense to take her from there considering they had to take her computer as well." Hotch reviewed.

"They wanted her kidnapping to be noticed. Maybe to draw attention away from the missing computer, maybe to send a message to her father." Emily suggested.

"We're dealing with a high functioning, meticulous, unsub." Morgan stated from his seat at the table.

"He must have been planning this for a long time. Think about it, to bypass the schools security, avoid all traffic cameras, and get her out of the area with all the cops looking for her." Reid continued.

It helped for them to explain the current theories and scenarios out loud. Bouncing ideas and scenarios off each other until they found the one that fit the facts and behavior the best.

"Are we sure it's a he? All the detail and planning to abduct one girl." JJ questioned letting her voice trail off.

"You saying a man wouldn't have planned so well." One of the local cops asked.

"A man would have orchestrated this to show how smart he was, he would taunt the police, he would have told the kidnappers to be more aggressive. The way Ms. woods was attacked was personal." JJ tried to explain to the local cop that the behavior just didn't fit for a male unsub.

"Seeing how we're past the twelve hour mark it's unlikely for them to call with a ransom meaning their goal was to take the computer. But the abduction from the school suggest he did not want her abduction to go unnoticed."Hotch continued.

"He wanted Mycroft to know as soon as possible."Reid nodded.

"And the killing of Marissa's house keeper, who represents a caregiver, suggest a personal motive as well." Rossi added as he folded his arms in front of him and tuned to face the rest of the team.

"A woman, someone who wanted Marissa, someone motivated by money and revenge." Morgan listed as the entire team came to the same conclusion.

"I think we need to call Mr Holmes back, tell him we know who took his daughter." Hotch nodded.

* * *

Note: I'm going to be honest here, the only reason I wrote this story was because I wanted to have Mycroft beat someone up with his umbrella :P

-I'll probably be posting the next chapter in a day or two.

-There are two chapters left in this story, I hope you're enjoying it so far.


	6. Chapter 6

"What can you tell us about Marissa's mother?" Hotch asked as Mycroft, Sherlock, and John sat in the board room.

"She's a gold digging tramp." Sherlock answered bluntly.

"Sherlock!" Both John and Mycroft shouted together, shocked by his statement.

"He's right though, Karen Layton." Mycroft continued calmly answering the question, Sherlock's comment forgotten. "The woman was a socialite quick to elevate her status but ultimately money was her motivation. You believe she was involved?" Mycroft asked.

"We believe she orchestrated the kidnapping, yes." Hotch nodded.

"She wasn't on the list of names you gave us." Reid stated having easily memorised the list of names he had given the team earlier.

"Human error, I did not think to include those with a personal motive against me." Mycroft answered carelessly.

"Understandable seeing how you don't have personal relationships with anyone." Sherlock mocked as he turned to face his brother, giving him a look that clearly said are-you-going-to-tell-them-or-not.

"Richard Mason also provided us with some additional information you should be aware of. Mr. Mason, Goran Petrović, Millard Sampson and Charles Trent were all employed by an unknown women, Karen I now assume." Mycroft informed them; not mentioning how he came to this information and Hotch didn't ask when he talked to him. "His accomplices took Marissa from the school while Mr. Mason was in charge of retrieving the laptop, he does not know where Marissa is currently being held."Mycroft explained what the man he had spoken with in the abandoned warehouse had told him during his _interrogation. _

"He didn't ask?" Morgan asked.

"So long as he was paid, he didn't care." Mycroft stated remaining calm despite being no closer to finding Marissa.

"Do you have that Garcia." Morgan asked into the speaker phone.

"Yes sir, I'm pulling them up now. No recent bank activity, but they have called each other regularly, I guess they didn't know that disposal phones are only helpful when you don't pay for them by credit cards." Garcia said with a victorious tone.

"Idiots." Mycroft muttered as he spun a small ballpoint pen on the desk, as the technical analysis continued to research.

"Okay their cells are turned off right now, but the second they turn on I'll nail them." Garcia said causing Mycroft's hopes to drop.

"Can you narrow it down to where the last calls were made?" Sherlock asked gritting his teeth slightly.

"Why yes my English friend, I can." Garcia answered, her bubbly tone almost caused the British government himself to smile. Before she explaining the last call was likely made just before the kidnapping, and was not the position where Marissa was being held. It did narrowing it down to a relatively small area on the map.

"Any buildings in the area that could be used to keep someone captive?" Rossi asked.

"They would need a lot of space and solitude, look for old buildings or sites closed off to the general public." Emily answered.

"Unfortunately, that is the entire area." Garcia sighed; most of the town was expanding and upgrading older buildings into new subsections.

"There has to be some way to narrow the area down." John said as Reid circled a large area on the map with red marker.

"If there is we haven't thought of it yet." Sherlock said mournfully.

"I want that area locked down, search every inch until she's found." Mycroft ordered as he glared daggers at the map on the board.

* * *

When it was clear intimidation wasn't going to work, they tried threats. They threatened her classmates, they threatened her, they threatened her family, and they threatened her father. To the last one Marissa couldn't help but laugh.

Then they moved on to violence, hitting her in the gut so forcefully it knocked the wind out of her. But still, she refused to cooperate.

After a short amount of time, they tied her to the chair and left her in the attic. She would sit there for hours, occasionally they would return and try to _convince_ her to cooperate, but mostly she sat in silence.

Marissa could hear them arguing downstairs often, they must be waiting for their boss to return to see what they were going to do with her.

It wasn't until the sun had started to set, and the rays of sun peaked through the boarded windows casting long shadows across the floor, that she realised how late it had gotten. Subsequently, how hungry she had become.

Her uncle Sherlock could go days without eating, especially when he was working a case, it was a trait she did not share. Like her father Marissa had a sweet tooth and her bag was always stocked with chocolate bars, and while she was home there was always a bag of chips within reach. She could only go an hour without getting something to eat, a habit her father was trying to break her of.

Sighing Marissa tried to ignore her growling stomach and instead find a way to escape. Steal grey eyes searched the room, collecting data on everything around her. The two men had done one smart thing by leaving her alone in the room, under the impression that by not being in the same vicinity as he she couldn't use any mind games on them. Unfortunately for them, they underestimated her talents outside manipulating people.

...

For an hour she ran the ropes against the raised screw-head letting it slowly, very slowly, work away at the rope.

She knew her wrists would be red and badly chafed when her restraints finally broke, but she didn't know the extent of the damage until she was able to bring her hands in front of her again. The damage was focused mainly on the top of her wrist where she had pulled her hands as far apart as the ropes would allow, causing enough tension for the screw-head to chisel it away, but simultaneously causing friction against her skin.

Now she seen the thick red lines burned into her flesh, which would soon blister and scar, but it was a small price to pay to finally move freely.

It was the squeaky floorboard that signaled one of the men was coming again. But this time she was ready.

...

Opening the door the bald-headed man only had a fraction of a second to take notice of the empty chair where Marissa was supposed to be. Then he was suddenly hit from behind with a board torn from the window.

The man fell to the floor with a loud thud- disoriented, but not unconscious. That had been no coincidence; Marissa knew how much force she could exert and how much force it took to knock a man unconscious. The impact on the cerebellum made him temporally lose his motor movement but not enough to knock him out completely.

During his moment of disorientation Marissa easily pulled his gun free from his holster at his waist and pointed the barrel at him.

"I have a few questions, who are you people and who do you work for?" Marissa asked calmly, sweet voice contradicted by the weapon in her hand.

"You won't shoot me." The man said with a hand on the back of his head, his voice slightly slurred and confused.

Marissa smirked, a subtle tug on the corner of her mouth which caused her to look more menacing than most serial killers, and without a word pulled the trigger.

The sound of the gun muffled by the attached silencer, but Marissa still saw the flash, and felt the kickback. _She had always enjoyed guns_. The man in front of her didn't seem to appreciate the pleasure of having a gun go off, as he gripped his leg screaming loudly.

"A name, who do you work for?" She asked sternly.

"Bitch!" He shouted causing her to shoot him for the second time, in the shoulder.

"I really hate repeating myself and now I've gone and done it twice, do you want to try for a third time?" She said in a warning tone but before the man could answer her question Marissa could hear the loud thumping and annoying squeak as the second man ran up the stairs, no doubt having heard his partner's scream.

"Stay put, apply pressure to your shoulder and tie this around your leg above the bullet wound." Marissa ordered tossing him her school jacket before moving to the door once, gun dangling off one of her fingers.

...

The man had been running up the stairs, tall and bruiting, he took up the majority of the staircase, but he had been in such a rush he didn't pause to consider what was happening. Again, Marissa used the board as her weapon, catching him in the jaw as he burst into the room. He fumbled backwards and Marissa shoved him forcefully.

The building was hardly built to code, stairs far too close to the room's door, and with no further prompting from Marissa the man fell down the large staircase. Head over heels, he somersaulted backwards shouting and groaning, before lying motionless at the bottom.

Marissa stared at him for a second longer before discarding the splintered board for good and dusted off her hands. _It was about time she went home._

* * *

The BAU team and Holme's brothers were working surprisingly well together. Together they had narrowed to the most likely site where Marissa could be being held. But before they had the chance to send out squad cars Garcia called in.

"Sir, one of the suspects phones just turned back on." She blurted out frantically.

"Track it." Hotch ordered not willing to lose the only lead they had left.

"He's making a call... to Mycroft?" Garcia said puzzled.

"Can you patch us into the call?" Hotch asked just as Mycroft's phone began to ring. Hotch held out his hand stopping the British ambassador from answering just yet, and he was pleasantly surprised when he did just that.

"Can I intercept a call, who do you think you're talking to." Garcia said proudly to herself as the sound of keys took over the conversation. Mycroft held the still ringing phone, every nerve in his body screaming to answer it, but he waited until the technical analysts did what she had to do. He would not risk losing the trace, or not permitting the agents to hear what the kidnappers had to say by being impatient.

"Alright It's ready, well hear everything you do. Just keep him talking." Garcia instructed seconds, which felt like years, later.

"Hello." Mycroft answered as he brought the phone to his ear. He was as always calm and collect, year of dealing with Sherlock's antics made him an expert at bottling down homicidal thought and displays of emotion.

"Daddy is that you?" Marissa's voice filled the phone and for a second Mycroft was frozen with the joy and realization that she was alive.

"Marissa?" Garcia blurted out before slapping her hand over her mouth, not having meant to say that out loud. She had been prepared to hear the voice of their kidnapper, not the victim.

"Who's this? Why do you have my father's phone." Marissa said with slight suspicion in her voice.

"Actually I intercepted the call. My names Penelope Garcia and I'm with the FBI can you tell me where you are." Garcia explained.

"We'll Mss Garcia with the FBI, I suggest you send two ambulances and your lest annoying police officers to my location. I assume your competent enough to track this phone." Marissa stated.

"Yes, just stay on the line. Are you hurt?"

"No I'm fine, my kidnappers on the other hand have had a bit of an accident. One with a GSW to the leg and shoulder, another with a few broken ribs, no doubt a fractured skull, and I suspect damage to his spine." She answered casually. Mycroft couldn't help but chuckle fondly to that, it was such a Sherlock thing to say (in fact he had stated a similar thing to Detective Lestrade once before). Perhaps Marissa spent too much time with her uncle if she was adopting his mannerism. _A second Sherlock was certainly something he'd hoped to avoid._

The BAU team did not have the same reaction to the statement as Mycroft had, nor did they have Sherlock's proud smirk when he heard what she had said. Instead, a statement by one of Marissa's classmates came to mind. _"God help whoever has her, the girl is a complete psychopath and if you don't find her you'll be finding her kidnappers dead in a ditch somewhere."_

"What happened?"Garcia asked, again speaking out of turn but she was so flabbergasted by the teenage girl's nonchalant comment that she couldn't help herself.

"Poor bloke fell down the stairs." Marissa surmised.

"How many times did he fall down the stairs?" Sherlock asked seriously, but Marissa could hear the playful undertone.

"Just the once, uncle Sherlock. Is daddy there?" Marissa answered truthfully.

"I'm here." Mycroft responded having just realised he hadn't said a word to her yet. "Was there a woman with them?" He asked feeling the need to know she was indeed safe.

"Yes, I heard her talking downstairs, but I'm not sure where she's gone now?" Marissa answered she still hadn't built up the courage to leave the room. Having instead taken the fact that no one followed the second man up the stairs as conformation the woman had in fact left, and used his cell phone to call her father.

"Are you armed?" was Mycroft's next question. Not are you hurt, or where are you. He could tell by her tone, by her breathing, that she was injured slightly but nothing life threatening, and the call was being traced at the moment. The only concern at the forefront of Mycroft's mind was would she be able to continue defending herself if someone returned.

"I always am." Marissa smiled knowingly into the phone. A Holmes didn't need a gun or a splintered of wooden board to come out on top, their mind was always enough. That being said the gun in her hand didn't hurt either.

"The FBI have men on the way, I'll be there shortly." Mycroft explained already heading out the door, knowing her whereabouts were about to be texted to him.

"No rush, I'm having a grand whole time." Marissa said plainly, whither it was sarcasm or she genuinely enjoyed the thrill of maiming her kidnappers was left up in the air.


	7. Chapter 7

Hotch half expected Mycroft to stay completely indifferent, as he had since the time of his daughters kidnapping. To his pleasant surprise the moment they arrived on the scene Marissa broke away from her attending officer and launched herself at the man.

Mycroft responded immediately, wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. _Caring may not be an advantage, but it sure as hell didn't hurt in this case. _

"Are you harmed?" Mycroft asked, forcing his voice to remain calm and professional.

"No sir, I'm fine." She smiled, only a small lie, as he held her at arm's length noting every scuff and bruise on her body with a murderous gaze in his eyes, _a silent promise to destroy all those responsible for his daughter's current condition_. "I'm fine daddy." Marissa repeated with a smiled. And for a second Mycroft over looked what would soon be a black eye, and the obvious rope burns to her wrist, and allowed himself to just be grateful she was alive_. But that oversight would be short lived when he found Karen. _

"Good to see you in one piece." Sherlock said casually, hands in his pockets, while the end of his black trench coat flared out behind him with dramatic flair, as he strolled over to the two of them, memorising the same injuries as he did so.

"Uncle Sherlock, did you miss me?" Marissa teased.

"Not in the slightest." Sherlock answered instantly, sounding rather bored now that the case was solved. For once he did a better job at hiding his emotions then his brother did, who had kept a hand on Marissa's shoulder in case she was suddenly going to be taken from him again.

"Sherlock." John snapped, but his voice lacked its usual protest. He knew Sherlock was happy to have his niece back safe, and he knew that she knew it as well.

"It's okay John." Marissa laughed.

"Come now, let's get you home." Mycroft interrupted as he guided her to the black suv he had arrived in. It took conscious effort to keep his voice serious, but a properly trained ear could still hear the underling tenderness.

"The police officer said he had some questions for me." Marissa paused.

"I will deal with it." Mycroft answered.

"I did shoot a man." She reminded him causally looking over her shoulder to judge his reaction to that fact, but Mycroft remained composed by the statement.

"Twice, and pushed another down the stairs." Sherlock piped in.

"He tripped." Marisa said defensively.

"Of course he did." Sherlock replied, his smirk slowly morphing into a small smile.

"I said I will deal with it, get in the car." Mycroft said firmly, he could already feel the headache starting and if he didn't get the two of them to stop bickering he would never get a moments peace.

Before he had got into the car Mycroft paused long enough to collect his thought and turn to the FBI agent standing nearby. "Agent Hotchner, thank you for everything you've done today." It wasn't much of a thank you, but Aaron had been a profiler long enough to realised that a statement like that, from a man like Mycroft, was equivalent to a teary and heartfelt appreciation as any grateful parent before him.

...

...

Elsewhere, a woman watched the tender moment from a distance. While her expression remained relatively calm, her nostrils flared, and the cords in her neck became more pronounced as her jaw clenched.

Silently singling to her driver she offered the teenage Holmes one last cold stare before leaving the area. No doubt her ex would be mobilizing all his resources to capture her.

_It was best she left for the time being. _

* * *

...

* * *

okay, end of story.

originally I had more written but after rereading it I thought it was a bit repetitive, besides a reunion between Mycroft and his daughter wouldn't have much of a heartfelt feel to it- so i thought short and sweet would be best

yes i left it open to a sequel (as I often do in my stories), but that does not mean I'll post one. I have a basic idea as to what would happen next but currently lack the motivation to write it.

thank you for reading, I appreciate it


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